


the sound of silence

by owilde



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Louis Deserves Better, M/M, Post-Episode 3, Romance, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, this is all very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 20:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: His mind is filled with cotton, and his skin is numb, but he’s acutelyaware.His mouth tastes like copper.





	the sound of silence

**Author's Note:**

> UGH. That's all I have to say about _that_ episode. Thanks to @ Vodnici for providing me an outlet to scream commentary to. Love you! Also honestly, I don't know if their way of getting out of the boat is realistic or in tune with canon, I was too shocked by like, everything, to really analyze the details of it all fghjk
> 
> Title taken from Simon & Garfunkel's song by the same name. Just in case this shit wasn't sad enough.

There are hands on his waist, under his arms, holding him up. Louis stumbles forward, blind to most things. His body is pure air, immaterial; it floats, hundreds of miles above him, and yet he can’t escape it. He can’t escape any of this, no matter how hard he tries. His mind is filled with cotton, and his skin is numb, but he’s acutely _aware_.

His mouth tastes like copper.

“Come on,” someone says, and it takes a moment for it to filter through to Louis that it’s Aasim. He sounds calm, but it can’t be real – none of this can be real, or otherwise, everything is so upside down that Louis is going to topple over. Maybe he’s dreaming, because it wouldn’t be the first nightmare of this kind, but in those hellscapes conjured up by his subconscious, he always wakes up.

Louis’ free hand curls into a fist, and it’s like his body’s fighting against the movement. He relaxes his fingers, and pinches the side of his leg. It hurts. It’s real. He’s not waking up.

A wave of panic ripples through his body, leaving him faint and dizzy. It’s gone as quick as it arrived, and when Aasim tightens his hold on him and says something Louis doesn’t comprehend, the world holds still and stable for just a few seconds.

“Louis,” Aasim says, sternly but not unkindly. “We’re gonna need to swim. Can you do that? I’m going to be here the whole time, alright? Just… hold on to me, but keep your head above the water.”

 _Keep your head above the water_. Somewhere, in the far corner of his mind, Louis finds it funny, in the worst sense possible. He doesn’t want to keep his head above the water. He wants to lay down and let himself sink, way down until he hits the sandy bottom of the river and can close his eyes and drift away, into a place where maybe it’s all better.

It’s not what Aasim wants, though. Louis doesn’t want to disappoint him – all he does is disappoint people, let them down. His parents, his teachers, his friends, boyfriends, girlfriends. It doesn’t matter – he finds a way to be too much _something_. A handful, that’s what he’s been told. He’s a handful.

Aasim’s face swims into his vision, brown eyes tracing patterns across Louis’ face. His brows are furrowed in concern. Louis is faintly aware that it’s just the two of them, by the edge of the boat, and that Aasim’s hands have moved a little. He’s still holding him up.

“Louis,” he says, and his voice trembles a little. Louis frowns in turn. “I know…” There’s shouting coming from somewhere, sounds of a struggle. Louis shouldn’t be such a burden. He’s doing it again – being in the way, being too much. Too fragile, too broken. He was too loud, and now he’ll never speak a word again for it.

 _I’m sorry_ , he tries to say, but nothing comes out but hurt and ache.

“We need to go,” Aasim repeats. He looks a little desperate. “Louis, I don’t… we can fix this, okay? I don’t know how, but we can fix this. As long as you’re still alive, we can fix this.”

The world really must be upside down, or inside out, because as far as Louis recalls, Aasim’s never been the optimistic one out of the two of them. The joke flutters in his chest, crawls its way upwards, and gets stuck in his mouth. He hums, and hopes it conveys something.

Aasim looks at him, eyes flickering briefly to his mouth before returning back up, pained. Louis’ stomach flips around, like he’s about to throw up. Another wave of panic, but this time, it lingers on.

What if Aasim doesn’t want this, anymore? What if Louis is worth nothing without his voice? He’ll never call out his name again, will never get to laugh at Aasim’s dry humour, will never…

Time stutters to an abhorrent stop as something stabs Louis in the gut, poignant and painful, and so real.

He never got to tell Aasim he loves him.

Aasim moves his hands to his upper arms, holding tight, squeezing feeling back into Louis. “We’ll get out of here, and we’ll do something. I promise, Lou. I fucking swear. But we have to _go_.”

Louis blinks, dazed. He thinks he might cry, but he nods, instead. Aasim nods back, and then they both go over the edge.

There’s water, and floating. Louis thinks he’s being dragged through a current, and he thinks the water washes away some of the blood – but the taste of copper remains, etched into his mouth, and he thinks he’ll never spit it out.

He’s floating, but Aasim’s a rock. He’s a solid creature, carved out of love and loyalty, and Louis wants to kick himself over doubting Aasim would never abandon him as he drags them both to shore.

There’s ground beneath his feet. Louis falters, but Aasim’s there to catch him, hands sneaking around him to hold him steady. They start walking, away from the boat and towards the woods. Louis doesn’t know where they’re going, and he can’t ask. He’s starting to tremble, his limbs shaking and turning heavy.

They don’t make it further than a hundred feet before they collapse. Louis’ legs give out from under him, and for all his strength, Aasim can’t keep them both up. Louis finds himself sitting down with his fingers digging into the dirt, curling in it, before he sags like a puppet that’s had its strings cut.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying before Aasim’s reaching out for his face, and he flinches away. Aasim’s hand stops, abruptly, before he withdraws. Louis wants to tell him it’s okay. He wants for Aasim’s touch to replace the hurt, to swipe away the blood-tainted memories still fresh in his mind like bleeding cuts.

 _Please_ , he screams into the ringing silence around them. Aasim shuffles closer, hesitantly. He reaches out again, and Louis lets himself be folded into his embrace, his forehead pressed against the crook of Aasim’s neck. He breathes in, smelling something other than blood, and his eyes fall shut.

“It’s alright,” Aasim whispers into his ear. Louis can feel his breath on his skin, warm and humid. “It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright–”

Louis takes a ragged breath. He’s coming back to himself, his senses returning with a painful crash that leaves him breathless and confused. Aasim’s there, holding him in place, but for the first time, Louis doesn’t feel safe with him.

“I love you,” Aasim says, and his voice cracks a little. “I’m sorry I never said it before. I’m sorry I won’t get to hear it. But I don’t need to. You can – there’s a lot of ways to… to communicate. I know some sign language. I’ll learn that, alright? We’ll do that. It’s alright. We’re fine.”

Louis says nothing, and eventually, the tears run dry.

The trees around them echo in silence.


End file.
